I'M BACK

After a long summer working on the novel,I've come back. Though,it needs typing up and editing,it's finished. I have believeable characters,logical plot and sparkling dialogue. If you are wondering as to whether you're in it. Ask yourself,what do you know about me and what do I know about you?

The book gave me a slight break from poetry,I sometimes hate poetry. It's the bastard child of the arts. Grudgingly accepted as one of the family,but eats its dinner at the far end of the table,away from the grown ups(painting,film and popular music). Poetry sits between those other barely tolerated/appreciated arts:mime and modern dance.

There is one advantage to being a poet,that the other arts don't have. A painter has to know about proportion,perspective,colour and other technical skills. The musician must pay attention to rhythm,harmony,melody,chords and scales. The poet doesn't have that problem. Todays poet can (and gennerally does) reject:grammer,spelling,rhythm and even clarity.

All I need do,is listen to my inner voice,but when was it ever a good idea to listen to the voices in your head?

SANKT HANS AFTEN

The beach bonfire,

burns brighter than the

dying sun.

We talked over the noise of

rap & hip-hop.

Breathed in the aromatic smoke,

that blew in from the garden

on the summer breeze.

Soft as a lover's whisper.

We denied the passing hour,

morning would come soon enough.

No need to look at watches.

The shadows cast

strange shapes,

entangled limbs and waving arms.

Guttural cries and gasps,

hint at strange creatures

in the dark.

We shared everything:

stories,drinks,bodily fluids.

Feelings,we kept to ourselves.

The sun we watched leave,

woke us on its return.

Shapes lay in disarray,

legs and arms akimbo;

clothing rent.

I staggered to the kitchen to make coffee.

Poetry quote 'Although poets often have unusual powers of reflective thought,the specific genius of a poet doesn't lie there,but in the imagination. Therefore his deepest and most original interpretation is likely to come by way of the imagination. And the specific way of imagination is not to clothe in imagery consciously held iideas; it is to produce half consciously a matter from which when produced,the reader may,if he chooses,extract ideas'. A.C Badley.

If we are what we eat,then what we are is fucked,for some reason I can't put the link in,but go to YouTube and watch Food Inc.

WHO ARE YOU GOING TO CALL?

After much investigation on the internet,I've come to the inevitable depressing conclusion,we are so fucked. The only question is what's going to get us first:population explosion,global climate change,peak oil or lizards from outer space who come to us by ufos from secret nazi bases on the moon.Putting everyone in workcamps where we will work for the NWO,set up by the Illuminati. Some of us will be saved by the Rapture,which coincedes with the end of the Mayan calender in 2012. There is also the fact,that according to gematria(hebrew numerology) the Iranian Ahmedi what's his name translates as the antichrist.


The true story is a synthesis of different stories,the Mayan calender ends,Quetzacoatl (born in dember of a virgin) returns,Raptures all those who've accepted christ as they personal saviour.Afterwards Lizards travelling from the moon on nazi ufos will take over,this is the Tribulation,before JC comes back and kicks his ass at Megiddo,ushering in the 1000 year reign of christ.

It sounds crazy,but, it all makes sense if do the research.If you tube doesn't convince you,check Wikipedia.

The truly scary thing is,that,I could put that out on a fancy website and more people will be convinced by it,than there are be the peer-reviewed science that tells us,that were running out of everything except troubles. I use the Black Cloud analogy, you see a Black Cloud on the horizon,you find shelter,get out of its path or at least put a rain jacket on. It might dissipate,it might not be as bad as you think,it may even be blown off course,but if you just stand there,you're going to get wet.

If you want more information,or at least get ranted at by someone with more knowledge,or,at least a better prose style,go to www.archdruidreport.blogspot.com

Is Man-Kind

A hunter lies still,

cries across the savannah,

death in the long grass.

Endangered species.

Planet on fire,

more studies are needed.

The sea also rises.

Six billion people,

peak oil,

climate change;

Gm foods.

Co2 levels rise,

urgent conference held.

Drinking imported water in plastic bottles.

Poet quote 'poetry is closer to vital truth than history' Plato

WHAT HAPPENED TO PROTEST

Bohemia died when all became permitted and they was nothing left to fight against,then maybe capitalism killed rebellion against its excesses,by bringing everyone into the fold and making us co-conspirators in the crime of planetary rape.

You invade a people,steal its resources,turn them into consumer goods for your citizens,where they go for highly prized/priced goods which everyone wants and goes into debt to own,thus putting their lives into the hands of the banks,into essentials. Broadband becomes a right,clean water,you pay extra for;wrapped in plastic.



So,as we demand,newer,faster,cheaper,we become accomplices to genocide. To complain about the 'system',is to be accursed of hypocrisy,as we too use what it provides. Total disengagement,though, is impossible. Go where? Do what? Their own the forests and the trees we came down from a millenia ago.No area of our lives our untouched,no individual,group or nation innocent. Violent protest met with bigger guns,non-violent ignored (facebook groups aren't the revolution).



Looking for leadership/inspiration in the arts,forget poetry. In poetry,it might scare the politicians who give money to the artists they approve of.



WARNING TO THE POET

I said you ripped me off,

"yeah,so what,"

you replied.

"only the early stuff,

which still had balls.

Your latest stuff,

I wouldn't touch

with asbestos gloves."

Promote the work,

don't believe the hype.



Poet quote 'Babies are like poems. They're beautiful to their creator,but to other people they're silly and fucking irritating".Doug Stanhope.



After you've watched William Lane Craig,defend the indefinable, go over to John Loftus http://www.debunkingchristianity.blogspot.com/ and watch this former student of WLC rip it apart.

WHAT DO I WANT FROM POETS/POETRY

I want poetry to be the new rock and roll! I want poets throwing punches at the paparazzi,as they stagger out of nightclubs with young girls. I want a 100,000 people at Roskilde shouting 'EXTRA SONNET EXTRA SONNET' and have banksy stencilling vers libre(free verse) on the walls of corporate headquarters,while poets write haiku on the breasts of groupies.

Poetry should be the art of the dangerous,insane and the sage. It should come withe Parental Advisory Explicit Lyrics on the cover. I want parents saying to their children,'why can't you go out with a nice Black Metal guitarist who burns down churches and sacrifices goats to Satan? How can you bring shame on us,by going out with a POET?.

Poets should be on wanted posters and die of auto-erotic asphyixsation. Caroline Lamb,said of Byron,'mad,bad and dangerous to know', I want my poets dead!

Poet quote of the day'poetry should strike the reader as an ordering of his own thoughts and appear almost as a rememberance' John Keats.

No intellectual position is valid if it hasn't at least considered with equal weight both sides of an argument. If you're an atheist,who hasn't engaged with the best Christian apologetics or hold a firm opinion on either side,the you should look at the work of William Lane Craig at www.reasonablefaith.org for the best rational arguments for the indescribable.

What I Want From My Poetry
I try to write,
what all poets try to.
The pure poem!

Untouched by,
obfuscation,deviation or repition.
Words stripped of ulterior motives.

Like a sniper's bullet,
flying high,taking into account all resistance.
Drops,straight through the heart.

HOW TO LIVE YOUR LIFE? DO NOTHING

Even the most irregular and disordered existence,needs a set of guidelines to give it,if not,direction at least form. They abound in sacred text,poetry (if these two aren't the same thing) and cultural mores. Though,there had never been any scientific basis for them,until now. Medical science has now figure out the rules for a happy life and the Protestant Work Ethic,gets busted as the bullshit mythology,I always knew it was. Dr Ray Bennett,in his,'Underachievers Manifesto',gives the rules that gives idleness the respect it deserves. Remember Kids,this is science.

UNDERACHIEVER'S MANIFESTO

1) Lifes too short.
2) Control is an illusion.
3) Expectations lead to misery.
4) Great expectations lead to great misery.
5) Achievement creates expectations.
6) The law of diminishing returns applies everywhere.
7) Perfect is the enemy of good.
8) The tallest blade is sure to be cut.
9) Accomplishment is in the eye of the beholder.
10) Being alive,is your greatest accomplishment.


Two websites that would agree and are enthusiastic apostles of the Apathetic creed are http://www.theidler.co.uk/ and http://www.idlefoundation.com/



Poetry quote of the day,'Poetry is just evidence of life. If your life is burning well,poetry is just the ash' Leonard Cohen.



WRITTEN WHILE WAITING FOR THE KETTLE TO BOIL

The cigarette smoke

in my eyes,

doesn't stop me

from seeing the end of the line.



And the red wine

won't wash away

the newspaper headlines.

Epitaphs on a dead cultures tombstones.



The bankcard

in my wallet,

is only useful

for underlining words in books.



And the medical card

shows an address,

I've not lived at

in two years.

A LONG TIME GONE

It's been a long time since,I've had anything to post. To call poetry a 'Dark Mistress',may be a cliche,but she's certainly an inconsistent/tempremental one. Sometimes the poet might as well hold his penis as his pen,for all the good it will do him. The prose is doing fine,maybe it's sucking the poetry out of me?

Has it run out? Will it come back? have I been rejected from working on short stories and the novels? Am I being fanciful,treating it as a human being with feelings? Isn't poetry like all art about feelings?

Poet quote of the day' He who would not be frustrate of his desire to write a great poem,should first of all BE a poem'John Keats

I need my misanthropy with a punchline as well as a point. No one does it better than Doug Stanhope,so go to www.dougstanhope.com, for an intro to the master.

REQUEST TO A POET
Poet,
don't give me your poems.
They're no good to me.

I want your rage,
your anger,
you're desperate foolish love.

Can I hear your sigh,
your laughter;
your warm breath on the back of my neck?

Will I be able to follow,
your tracks on a distant shore,
as you stumble through the Hall of Mirrors?

Do others speak your name,
do their snarl when it's spoken.
Will I hear of you before we meet?

Is the paper stained with blood,
greasy with sweat?
The ink runs,watered by tears.

NO?

Poet,
keep your poems.
You're no good to me!

Leave Me Alone,I'm Trying To Write:)

Thank God for the holidays,and the weather getting better,for I need solitude and nature for the recovery of my wallet and liver as well as the tranquility needed for those thoughts which I cannot,will not deny. Is it unreasonable to expect appreciation for your honesty,which equals the disgust,expressed at that which is expressed? No,I doubt it. The voices in my head and I,are getting tired of each other and it's time to let the dogs out.

Light A Candle
An urban vulture,
hovers as prey gathers.
Just talking to people.

Night ripped by sound:
Sirens desperate race against time,
Friends scream at discovery,
A mother cries.

Blood washes out,
burns clothes in the forest.
This never happened.

I draw sad eyes,
on a face in the paper.
I feel like I know her,
sad to die so young.

Tears on a grave,
the death of a maiden.
Warm summer rain.

Poet quote comes from Yevgeny Yevtushenko,'a poets autobiography is his poetry. Anything else is just footnotes.

Getting Out of The Garret

I wonder,if the fact that I've now decided to stop ignoring the urge to write,and my increasing sociability are connected? Not being generally regarded by most who know me as the most gregarious of men,down right misanthropic,I've probably spoken to more people and more interesting people since I started to write than I have for a long time.

I write,in public,since an unusual thing to do,people frequently,come up to me and ask what,I'm doing. The secret,is that I'm using an old-school pen and paper.A laptop says,go away,a pen and paper is old fashioned,and old fashioned,doesn't tell you to get lost.

I spent sunday evening,talking with a priest(casper),about poetry,music,god,football. He just had to know,what I was doing. This most solitary of arts,has,paradoxically,began to turn me into the most social of people.

NO ONE KNOWS WHERE THE HOBO GOES
A bad night out,
lightning illuminates the sky.
I see the way ahead.

It's a cold wind
and hard rain falling.
Smoked the last cigarette,
an hour ago.

Snow bends branches,
in the distance a light.
I just walk on.

Tracks covered up
and rain fills bootmarks.
Nothing passed by here,
Hobo in the snow.

Body heat falls,
with every drink taken.
Dead in the snow.

Poet quote of the day comes from Thomas Macauley,'Perhaps,no person can be a poet,or even enjoy poetry without a certain unsoundness of mind'

Take Your Best Shot

I've spent too long,writing to myself with this blog,I've decided it's time to crush my ego,in the forums. Expressing my arrogant insecurities,by opening myself to anonymous comments on the internet. Posting under a nom-de-plume Bragi,you can find me at http://www.everypoet.org/ and http://www.thepoetryforum.co.uk/.

Monday Evening in Tilst
Coming down from
A wine and beer hangover,
I detox
with coffee and poetry.

Smoking tasteless cigarettes,
As cars drive by in the distance.
I'm staying at a mates house,
He's at work and then
will go to his girlfriends.

My drinking partner
has to study for a test
And I have shit to do.

Today's poet quote, 'All a poet can do is warn' Wilfred Owen

Poetry Has Poor Public Relations

In Japanese culture,there are various 'Do's' or 'ways',Kendo(the way of the sword),Bushido(the way of the warrior) and also Kado(the way of poetry). The belief is that,through rigorous application and dedication to your 'way' or 'path',you'll eventually see into the nature of all things. The concept that poetry is a spiritual path and not a purely literary exercise is in modern culture,subject to derision but our ancestors would have agreed with the orient.

In Nordic culture,there was the Skald,in Celtic the Bard,in Provencal France before the Albigensian crusades,the Troubadour. They were the poets,storytellers,history keepers and lawgivers of the people. Honoured,respected passing between warring parties without let or hindrance. A gentleman was expected to fight gallantly,act honourable and express himself,especially to his lover,poetically.

A haiku

A pilgrim walks
towards the infinite.
back to the world

Today's poetry quote,'A poem is never finished,only abandoned' Paul Valery

Economics Of Poetry

I have no deep reason for not posting,just laziness and the bitterness of spending my birthday alone:(. I'm writing a poem about it:).

In reply to the statement,"There's no money in poetry",the poet Robert Frost (The Road Less Travelled) answered "There's no poetry in money",both statements are correct. as a believer in the principle,that the true poet has no choice,to quote Jack Micheline,'poetry gets into your blood like a hurricane,you've got to let it out',then money should not be a motivating factor and will rarely be of consequence.

I doubt that it's pure coincedence,that in the word poverty,you can spell 'poet'. The internet has aided the poet,whilst adding extra weight to their feet. The poet no longer needs to satisfy the prejudices of editors. They can create websites,blogs,hell even magazines and self-publish books(www.lulu.com). This has led to a tsunami of post-modernist beats (of course its poetry,the lines are jagged and it doesn't make sense),which is beginning to make me feel nostalgic for the days when poetry had structure,sonnets etc and rules. maybe poets,like musicians need to practice their scales before they are allowed to improvise.

For an excellent website for all things poetry,especially the business aspect, go to www.emptymirrorbooks.com.

A haiku
door creaks open,
eyes shut hand over ears.
daddy's home early

Gift The Poetry For The Poetry Is A Gift

It's been a week since my last post. I would claim pressure of work,but we all know that's a lie. I will claim the pressure of poetry. To a women,I never thought I'd see again,I found myself trying to explain something i barely understand and don't wish to. Comprehension of the process,kills the magic and that's where I must live as a poet. All I could say is,how I live and what I do,is the outward expression of an inward philosophy.



Art can only live in a gift economy,I don't mean,or at least,not completely, giving your stuff away but as a spiritual gift. If you have received inspiration from others,then you're honour bound to pass on as teaching that which you've learnt. Giving freely,that which you desperate to receive.



Philosophically,I'm closest to the cynics. A word debased in modern culture.

A haiku

My weltenschuang?

I think schadenfreunde,

It fits the zeitgeist

Don't try

One of the pillars of taoist thought,is the principle of wu-wei,roughly translated as 'effortless action' or 'no action',it can be collaquily understood as 'go with the flow'. it doesn't mean passivity or just sitting on your arse. To exercise wu-wei,means to not force things,to accept that which lies beyond your control but still do the work that meeds to be done.

In Alcoholic Anonymous they have the serenity prayer,'God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference'. The English Romantic poet John Keats (see film 'Bright Star'),wrote'If poetry comes not naturally as the leaves to a tree,it had better not come at all'. That's pretty much,where it's at for the poet.

For everything you want to know about hermit sages,forest dwellers and mountain poets, go to www.hermitary.com.

ZEN BANK ROBBER
The zen bank robber,
wears a mask.
it's his original face
before he was born.

Passing a note
over the counter,
She reads it but doesn't understand,
the message is beyond words.

He points to the safe,
but the cashier
can only see his
finger.

multi art tasking

Multi-tasking is an inefficient way of performing mutliple tasks,one at a time is better. Though,it's uneffective in practical matters,artistically it can be inspirational. Though a poet,I listen to jazz and blues,watch fantasy and film noir,look at paintings and modern art. Each art flowing into,feeding off and providing inspiration to each other.

Dali worked with Hitchcock,Tavernier made a 2 hour music video for Dexter Gordon in 'Round Midnight' and Jim Morrison cared more for poetry than music. Music and poetry are natural partners, see Leonard Cohen and the soulf of jazz was revealed in the photography of Herman Leonard. Inspiration lies everywhere,guides are available,as poets were all walking the same path,but its's infinitely diverse,as long or as short as we want it to be. We got lost sometimes,or stuck but just keep shouting,somebody will be along to pull you out.

For a beautifully perverse illustration of gaining inspiration in other thing, go to http://www.myfirstdictionary.blogspot.com/.

NOT ALL PEACE AND QUIET FOR A HERMIT
It's not as peaceful
as you think.
Wind carries the sound
of cars
on the distant road.
Birds sing early
in the morning,
leaves crunch underfoot
as I gather berries and kindling.
the occasional hiker
passes by and says hello.
Fish tails beat the water
as the anglers reel them in.
The kettle whistles
as I brew tea
on the noisy roaring
fire.

Confusion or Perception

Liberating myself from mental slavery,as only myself can free my mind,I meditate on the lives of poet saints,judging them by their actions not by their intentions. Poetry seems to have a mortality rate to match rock music. I've come to the conclusion that if I'd been a poet when younger,instead of a thief,I would not have lived long enough to receive the prison sentence, which arguably saved my life and that character trait which drove me over the counter with a shotgun would have written FIN to my story a lot earlier than it's going to.

I do miss one thing from those days though,the passion I felt,that everything I did mattered,it was literally life or death. If my life and/or poetry is to mean anything,they can be no seperation between what I am and what I do. I don't try to be a poet,I am a poet.

This raises the question,that if my ego is sufficient to know,not believe,know that I am a poet,why write this blog,pay someone to work on a website,plan to publish a collection? Do I need praise/condemnation to re-inforce my self image? If I keep my poetry to myself,am I still a poet or just a self-indulgent poseur masturbating with ink?

Maxwell Jung lived in a cabin in the woods,Bob Kaufman took a vow of silence,Rimbaud stopped at 19 and went to Africa,Jacques Prevel got TB,Georg Trakl killed himself and Maxwell Bodenheim was murdered. Poeta Vagante?

For other hardcore mf'ers http://www.badassoftheweek.com/.

BLUES HERMIT BOOGIE
The way is marked
by a dusty path.
posts stand guard,
gate rots on its hinges.

Behind trees
no forester would touch,
a hut which looks derelict and deserted;
here I live.

A clear lake for fish and bathing,
wood for fire and a little earth to till.
Creatures of the forest are my neighbours,
there's a village nearby but no-one bothers me.

Winters are cold and long,
spring ripe with promise,
summer tastes of strawberries,
autumn tells me it's time to gather in the last of the harvest.

I write poems on leaves
which the winds scatter to the four corners.
It also carries the notes of my harmonica,
I play the Blues Hermit Boogie.

I hear little of my friends,
they're still in the world
and I don't do well there.
I have space for a guest.

Ii start my day with pray and meditation,
a little yoga for the body
and read the words of sages for my soul.
The rest of the day I do what needs to be done.

In the evening,
I eat simple food and drink tea.
I play a little and write a few words,
I finish with pray and meditation.

My name is mostly forgotten and rarely spoken,
I live below the world's radar.
beyond praise and condemnation,
my own and others.

Spices taste bitter on the tongue and silk makes me itch.
Noise and colours deafen and blind me.
Everything costs more than the label says,
let others run in the ratrace for I cannot find my shoes

rambling on sunday

As a long time admirer of bitter misanthropy and cynical assessment of humanity's motivations and future, I have found much to reflect on at http://www.beyond-the-pale-co.uk/.

I've recently been thinking,does the poetry we read,reflect or reinforce the views we possess? Does my street life and criminal past enable me to see something in the works of: Bob Kaufman,Jack Micheline,William Wantling and other poetes maudit, that maybe others cannot see or appreciate? is all art,and the appreciation of art just a matter of opinion? if we have no objective values,what use the asking of and giving of critique.

Interesting but essentially pointless questions, the act of creation is in and of itself sufficient. If dependent on appreciation or even purchase,it's not art. It's something,if poetry merely a phrase,if music noise to quieten the inner voice,painting something to brighten up a dull wall.

APPROVAL
Approval?
It's rare enough
to get a little
acceptance.
Approval
is too much
to ask for.

I'm with the
philosopher Antisthenes:
''All men praise you,Antisthenes''
''Why,what evil have I done?''

tao hobo

I frequently get comments,puzzled and prejorative about my life-style,whilst ,I couldn't, at least at the moment live any other; I guess I understand that it looks like I made a perverse choice(I also think most people doincluding the sensible accountants). In truth,I'm a complete lightweight and as dependent,at least at the moment,on this brutal,unforgiving culture we've created/allowed to develop,as the next wage slave. If people weren't such slobs,and indifferent to their environment, I wouldn't have any bottles to collect and it'll be back to mugging old ladies in the park:).

You want hard-core, check out Daniel suelo at http://www.zerocurrency.blogspot.com/.

Let me leave you with a poem

Winter Blues

Like the snow during

a long winter,

I've outstayed my welcome.

Ignoring the signs,

i continue to skate on

thin ice.

I wrap myself

against the glacial

outlook,

but it's thin cover

and wind cuts like a knife.

i feel nothing.

Everything is in hibernation

until spring.

I blew

my chance to go south.

I aspire to be Yurodivy,

a holy fool,

a comic angel

in human form.

Melancholic

poet madman,

reciting haiku

to the birds,

singing in trees.

dancing &

bathing in fountains,

avoided by all,

except children

of all ages.

back again

The poetical process is essentially mystical and should reveal more of the poet, than of their reading,education or erudition. The archetypal jazz,beat, street poet Bob Kaufman,wrote:
THE POET
The blood of the poet
must flow in his poem,
so much so,that others
demand an explanation.
the poet is not to be
explained. It is what it
is;the reality of the poem
cannot be denied.

Are you feeling,the need to cast aside your corrupt capitalist ways and be at one with the grat energy,but don't wish to read dusty,ancient texts? well go over to http://www.dudeism.com/ and find out why,the Big Lebowski,is the man for our time and place. If,on the other hand,you need to express your inner angry redneck,go over to http://www.joebageant.com/ and read the angriest, but smartest redneck of them all.

Greetings

On this the last day of the first month,a third of the way,through the fifth decade of my life,I begin to blog. I write,in defience of cold,poverty,sickness and public indifference/contempt. I intend to concentrate on matters poetical. You do not need,nor care to hear,my viewpoint on the zeitgeist(we're all fucked and I'm glad),political opinions(they're all a set of useless cocksuckers) or religious/spititual beliefs(the dave abides).
Not knowing whether to post when I've got something i want to say or less frequently,when i have something worth saying; I'll do it when I can be bothered. Let me leave you,with some suggestions: Good reading http://www.ranprieur.com/. Good listening at http://www.abneypark,com/. Good watching,go to google videos and Derrick Jensen,'EndGame'.
Oh, a poem
MEMORIES
memories burned
on my soul,
like the shadows
of vaporised humanity
etched on
the walls of
Hiroshima & Nagasaki.

Acid-burned
past,
poorly covered by
times
grafting of fresh
memories.

I still show
the scar
my enemies/friends
gave me.

They're faded
now and few
notice them
or know why
I bear them.

Poet quote,'To have great poets there must be great audiences too' Walt Whitman